


What Strength is to be Found

by hellscabanaboy



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Breaching the impenetrable fortress, Fisting, M/M, Power Dynamics, Strength and weakness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellscabanaboy/pseuds/hellscabanaboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanbei serves Hideyoshi with such strength as he might possess, in the bedchamber as well as the battlefield. He could never deny him the chance to experience that strength for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Strength is to be Found

Hanbei unties his mask as he enters Hideyoshi’s rooms, just as he always does when he attends him in private. Even in front of Hideyoshi it’s an odd feeling, as though it could reveal more than just the carefully powdered face beneath. But it’s all right, just as it ever has been; Hideyoshi turns to him, his robe open just enough to show the hard strength beneath, and before his face can flicker with the hesitancy of desire Hanbei is there, his fingers anchored in the thick coarse hair of his chest and his mind turned unswervingly towards that power.

Privately, Hanbei is as proud of his service in the bedchamber as he is of anything else. It’s his duty to look to all of Hideyoshi’s needs, of course, with skill borne of long experience and the cool devotion of a retainer in place of the affection that a lesser man might seek. So when Hideyoshi lets his legs part he bends his head gladly, stretches his lips wide and delights in the gratified intake of breath as much as he does anything, one more proof of his success.

It hardly takes long before Hideyoshi’s flesh is hot and hard beneath his lips. He has experience to guide him here as well, after all. So he’s watchful, even as he savors the earthy heat of his lord’s desire, waits until his breaths start to come heavy and the skin of his hips starts to flutter under Hanbei’s fingers before pulling back to straddle him.

Hideyoshi doesn’t stop him. But his hand is heavy on Hanbei’s shoulder, and his gaze follows his movements exactly as he reaches back, slides a hand between his own legs and starts to work himself open. This too he's done dozens of times before, and he’s always gratified to feel Hideyoshi’s eyes on him, admiring his skill as ardently as his body. But there’s hesitation there, as well, and Hanbei slows his movements to match it, though he already longs to feel Hideyoshi’s driving force.

“You enjoy this,” Hideyoshi says at length, an almost hesitant murmur that shakes the ground where Hanbei kneels.

Hanbei simply smiles. “Seeing to your needs? Of course I do, Hideyoshi. Whyever would you have thought differently?”

“Taking me inside,” he clarifies. Covers Hanbei’s hand with his own, trapping it between skin and skin. “Hanbei...I have never once thought you weak.”

And Hideyoshi knows, better than anyone when it comes to matters of strength, so Hanbei merely bows his head in acquiescence. “Of course not,” he murmurs. Swallows the catch in his throat before it can become a cough. “Of course not. Nothing that I do for you could ever weaken me, Hideyoshi.”

Hideyoshi nods. “I know,” he says at once. And then, slowly, “I also...wish to know such strength.”

It ought to be ridiculous, really, Hideyoshi looking to him for such a thing. For the strength he finds in weakness, when his own strength is more than enough. And yet his loins are already tightening with just the thought of that might surrounding him. Of offering yet more of his skill on Hideyoshi’s behalf.

“Are you certain I would be enough for you?” he asks, carefully light. “A man so expansive as you must require something still greater to match. I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

But even as he says it the solution is coming to him, with the bottle of oil still clutched in his hand. It’s perfect, almost perfect enough to wonder why he’s never once had the thought before. Hideyoshi’s magnificent body, his magnificent strength being exercised to its fullest - well, as far as Hanbei is capable, at any rate. But Hanbei knows his task well, knows Hideyoshi’s responses as well as he might his own. It should be no trouble to guide him to the pleasure that can be taken from such an act.

“You could take my entire hand, I daresay,” he says slowly, and Hideyoshi’s gaze follows his own, to his fingertips glistening with oil. Watches without objection as Hanbei sits back, pulls his robe once more snug around his waist, and though he reacts hardly at all even the rise and fall of his breath is heavy with possibility. “It’s in proportion, after all. 

“Then I will have it,” says Hideyoshi, final, just as though he were accepting one of Hanbei’s proposed marching orders, and his hand is once again warm and heavy on Hanbei’s shoulder.

So Hanbei settles between his legs, and Hideyoshi lies back, spreads his thighs to let Hanbei slide further between them. He rests his hand against Hideyoshi’s thigh, runs it down the hard lines of muscle until he’s spreading Hideyoshi’s ass before him. The tight skin quivers at the first touch of oiled fingers, and a tremble runs through Hideyoshi’s body in response. Hanbei bites his lip. Concentrates on rubbing the oil into his rough skin, each step slow and certain and just as it ought to be.

Still, he doesn’t miss the way the muscles clench around him as he starts to slip his fingers inside. “It’ll be better if you relax, Hideyoshi,” he murmurs, keeps working the fingers slowly deeper. “Just let yourself hold them. Encompass them, Hideyoshi, you know you can. You’re so much more than strong enough.” And it’s true; he breathes out in a long murmur of agreement, and Hanbei slides his fingers deep in a single motion. He leans forward, rests his head against Hideyoshi’s knee as he works them further into the muscle, spreads it wide around him. His skin is hot, already starting to bead with sweat, but nowhere near as hot as it is inside him, surrounded by the crushing grip of his muscle. 

As expected, it isn’t easy to get Hideyoshi to open around him. After all, he’s hardly a man given to making accommodations for anything, let alone so intimate a trespass. But Hanbei waits - even for him, some things must be given the proper time - spreads his fingers deep inside his lord’s body, and when the muscle finally starts to yield around him it’s all too easy to thrust inside, again and again, and listen to Hideyoshi’s breaths grow ragged around him.

He adds a third finger as soon as he can, entranced by the way Hideyoshi stretches to take him in, by the way his whole body responds to each movement of Hanbei’s arm. He’s groaning in earnest now, low harsh sounds that Hanbei feels in his arm as much as hears. Sounds of pleasure, and even as accustomed as he is to reading Hideyoshi’s responses, it takes a moment to realize the weight of them. His lord isn’t ordinarily a vocal man, and now Hanbei draws forth ever more urgent groans with each flick of his fingers.

He’s glad, now, that he’s declined to fuck Hideyoshi himself; for all his experience he’s not sure he could hold out to satisfy him. Besides, it wouldn’t be enough, not nearly, not when Hideyoshi’s already spread so wide around him. Hideyoshi is so strong, can take so much; nothing is beyond him, and the pure eroticism of that knowledge just urges Hanbei on further, thrusting his fingers inside with abandon.

“Just relax,” he still murmurs, almost compulsively, strokes down the hard lines of Hideyoshi’s hip as though there were any kind of reassurance he could need. “Take me. Take all of me. That’s right.”

By the time he pulls out to gather his fingers together, Hideyoshi’s groans have faded into soft ragged sounds that nonetheless resound through Hanbei’s chest. It’s all Hanbei can do to hold back his own moans in return, hold himself back from rutting against Hideyoshi’s hip like a wild thing - like he were taking his own gratification from Hideyoshi’s body. But no - instead he concentrates on working the wedge of his hand inside. On the effort it takes to spread him open still wider, as he pushes in to the knuckle, on Hideyoshi’s gasping breaths, on his fingers scraping the tatami, on every flutter of the muscle around Hanbei’s fingers.

He rises to his knees, guides Hideyoshi’s leg aside and looks on the man laid out beneath him.

Hideyoshi’s body shakes with huge, gasping breaths, sweat running down the crags of his muscles as he struggles. The lines of his face seem carved into his skin with tension. It’s indescribable, unthinkable, and for a moment Hanbei can only shudder at the sight. If it were any man but Hideyoshi he might almost have been moved to mercy at such abjection. But Hideyoshi needs no such thing. His cock still lies hard against his belly, and when Hanbei’s hand starts to slip out of place he wrenches down on it with stunning force, fixing him in place. Even in this, Hideyoshi’s strength is triumphant.

Hanbei knows him better than any man living. Knows every bit of the power that he wields. And when the arousal jolts down his spine and even the fingers buried inside Hideyoshi tremble with it, it’s simply in anticipation of the strength he has yet to bring to bear.

It can be nothing short of magnificent.

“I’m going to put my hand in now,” he says softly, because he’s doing this for Hideyoshi, for Hideyoshi’s pleasure, and Hanbei can only do his utmost to open the way for him here as he does in everything, can only be honored to guide him forward into still further strength.

Unhesitatingly he starts to press inside. Hideyoshi lets out a low sound as the muscles part around his hand, long and harsh, and Hanbei shudders at the need in it. It’s unthinkable, to hear a thing of such desperation. Not from Hideyoshi. And still it only drives him on further, working his arm inexorably forward as the massive muscle flutters uselessly against the intrusion, as Hanbei nearly doubles over with the desperate force of his own arousal. It’s only too easy.

Hideyoshi’s shattered cry seems enough to shake the earth around them as his knuckles split the muscle apart.

And then he’s inside Hideyoshi to the wrist, fucking him in tiny, steady strokes, and Hideyoshi’s gasps grow harsher with each one, his entire body shaking around Hanbei as though he might come apart. But Hideyoshi is strong. Hanbei repeats it to himself, feels the proof of it in the searing heat of his body around him. Hideyoshi is strong. Everything that he takes is merely a chance to prove it further.

So he fucks him as he’s meant to. As he longs to. Fucks him harder and harder, and with each thrust Hideyoshi’s cries grow higher, until Hanbei can scarcely recognize them at all and Hideyoshi is quaking beneath him, for all his power simply flesh, beyond all control.

Hanbei has seen many a formidable man pinned beneath him by the force of his own desire, thrashing in desperation for his touch. He revels in it. Revels in seeing their strength turned into weakness greater than his own, in letting them spend themselves in transient desire while he drives home his triumph. Even a man like him can taste this much of strength.

Hideyoshi is nothing like that. No desire could ever bring him so low, nor any of the weak tools that Hanbei has at his disposal. And yet he groans under Hanbei’s arm, and the triumph surges through his loins and through his pounding heart.

He twists his arm, just the slightest flick of his wrist, and Hideyoshi curls into himself, actually writhes beneath him. It’s a beautiful, impossible sight, and Hanbei shudders over and over before it. Tries to look away, but he can still hear Hideyoshi’s cries, still feel the muscle convulse around him with every breath, and he still wants it, wants to see how far he can take him, wants to see him come apart at his hands.

Hideyoshi can never come apart.

Hanbei’s heart thunders in his chest, urging his strokes on to still further force. It’s no different, he’s pleasured Hideyoshi any number of times, guided him to where he was speechless with desire, and it’s been a service, an offering of his skills on his lord’s behalf. It can’t be any different. As well to imagine that any of those times could have made Hideyoshi weak. But Hideyoshi's still thrashing, howling at Hanbei’s every movement, and Hanbei is vast, he’s strong, enough to fill Hideyoshi’s entire world, reeling from the unthinkable power he holds in his hand.

Hideyoshi’s eyes fix on him. His lips move, but no order comes, just a helpless hiss of breath, and Hanbei keeps moving, keeps fucking him, doesn’t relent. Strokes his fingertips up and down his length and watches him twist beneath him at the little touch, far lighter than Hanbei knows he needs, revels in the choked-off groans he draws forth. He’s so close, now. Anytime Hanbei chooses.

“...please,” gasps Hideyoshi at last, and chokes into shocked silence at the sound. And Hanbei presses his hand to his groin, barely even aware of it, jerks his hips and comes, still in his robe, doubled over in stunned desire.

As soon as he recovers he’s stroking Hideyoshi’s cock, this time with the solid pressure he knows he prefers. The flesh is hot and heavy in his grip and it’s only moments before Hideyoshi’s convulsing with his own climax, trapping Hanbei’s hand in the tight heat of his body. Hanbei turns his face into Hideyoshi’s leg, squeezes his eyes shut, but the sound of Hideyoshi’s roar still rends him through.

The basin of water left by the door has already started to cool by the time he’s eased his hand from Hideyoshi and slipped from his side, chilled by the echo of the struggle that lingers in his last long groan. He strips off his soiled robe, bends his shoulders low and clean his hands, carefully, until the breath has stopped catching in his throat and he can straighten. Can let his face be seen. It needn’t have mattered; Hideyoshi hasn’t moved from where he lies, chest heaving, without even a glance in Hanbei’s direction. As it should be, then.

His mask lies near Hideyoshi’s discarded robe. He fits it onto his face, reties it with practiced fingers. His work here isn’t yet done, after all. It wouldn’t do to leave room for even the impression that anything is amiss.

He kneels before Hideyoshi, just as always, cleans his body with soft towels. Just as always. It takes longer than usual, with sweat and oil streaking Hideyoshi’s body, with Hanbei’s hands almost shaking before he stills them to touch his lord’s flesh. But that’s all right, this time. Hideyoshi’s skin is hard and hot and as heartening as ever it is, and taking care of him in this way is just one more thing Hanbei can offer, one more piece of himself he can devote to Toyotomi strength. And by the time he’s nearly through Hideyoshi has raised himself up once more, sitting with straight back and proud gaze, and it’s more than enough to prove that his devotion is in the right place. It will always be enough.

Hanbei doesn’t meet his eyes, as he might have done. Instead he takes one massive hand in both his own, brushes away the beaded sweat and bends his head once more. Kisses the fingertips, each one alone large enough for him to rest his lips on. Kisses the knuckles, rough with the scars of a dozen battles, and the much older scar on the back of his hand, and all around him Hideyoshi’s breath leaves him in a shudder. And yet he accepts the gesture as befits a lord of his might, and Hanbei shrinks into the heat of his body, until Hideyoshi’s vast strength around him is all he feels.

He doesn’t lift his head until his shoulders start to ache, and when he does his smile is as proud as ever. It’s only moments before he’s graced with Hideyoshi’s in return, just as proud and just as strong. No room for hesitation at all.

“I’d like to call the generals together tomorrow.” It feels like forever since he’d thought of such things, though it’s been only hours since he’d drawn up the maps. “It’s more than time we started our march southward. I’ll need to present the plan for your approval first, of course.”

“You always have my ear, Hanbei,” Hideyoshi replies, and Hanbei rises, drapes Hideyoshi’s robe over his shoulders. Hideyoshi lets him wrap it into place, once more every inch the lord he has always been.

“I’ll come at dawn, then.”

Hours have passed already since the sun has gone down. For a moment Hideyoshi’s eyes dart to the shoji, to the weak slivers of moonlight filtering through. But he makes no objection, and finally he gives a heavy nod, catches Hanbei’s hand as he’s about to bow. “Hanbei,” he says slowly. “You know how I value your service.”

The words rasp from his throat, already battered with screaming, and for an instant all Hanbei can see is his lord’s might broken and shaking before him, the strength of his hand just an illusion next to the totality of his defeat. And then it’s gone, and as absurd as it has ever been before the heat of Hideyoshi’s eyes, gazing up at Hanbei and further, into a future far beyond him. “All of your service,” he repeats.

Hanbei smiles behind his mask. Bends his head once more to Hideyoshi’s hand as he disentangles himself. “You have it,” he replies, “wherever you may will it.”

He keeps the pride in Hideyoshi’s face with him even as he pads alone back to his rooms, arranges himself at his desk and wets his brush once more. He still has the marching orders to draw up for their inevitable advance, yet more pieces to assemble of the great monolith of Toyotomi glory yet to come. There has never been any room for doubt.


End file.
